


finding you can change

by preciousthings



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Royalty, Princess Diaries AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/pseuds/preciousthings
Summary: Dylan is 18 years and one day old, with horribly bleached hair, four day old stubble that he hasn’t bothered to shave, and he’s wearing a t-shirt that may or may not be clean. He’s a student and a mediocre volleyball player. He’s not a prince.





	finding you can change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helveticaneue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helveticaneue/gifts).



> hi, helveticaneue! your dear author had modern royalty listed for another pairing, but this au with this ship was too perfect of an opportunity to give up. i really hope you enjoy it! the title is from beauty and the beast's title song.
> 
> thank you to lotts, julia, jessica, ria, ali and anyone else who cheered me on or gave me advice as i wrote this. the end notes contain a list of characters/ships that are mentioned and not tagged, plus a few extras!

As far as Mondays go, this one is pretty normal. Which is to say, it completely sucks just on principle of it being Monday. Dylan turned 18 yesterday, and he’s feeling a lot of things. Tired, mostly, but there are some other things going on there too.

Every day feels a little bit closer to an end Dylan doesn’t want to face, with graduation so close. It’s all almost a little bittersweet until Mitch Marner walks right the fuck into him while he’s getting books out of his locker.

“You have eyes, use them,” Dylan says.

“Someone’s in a shitty mood this morning, eh?”

Dylan takes a deep breath and laughs bitterly.

Mitch smiles at him, so fucking smug, and then walks away like nothing even happened.

What the _fuck_.

Look, it’s not like he hates Mitch, but he wouldn’t exactly call Mitch his best friend either. They just have all the same friends and are teammates, and like. It’s just the way they are. It’s not the worst thing in the world, most of the time. Sometimes Mitch is a little more unbearable than usual, but it’s fine. They manage, have been managing since sophomore year now. No one really mentions it. It doesn’t mess with any dynamics, and most of the time, the guys just block out their bickering.

 

 

He sees Mitch a grand total of twice before lunch, and one of those times was the locker incident. Not that it matters, or that he keeps track of how many times he sees Mitch during the day, because that'd just be fucking stupid.

"You sure do talk about him a lot," Connor says, while they're having lunch. Lawson nods, agreeing. "It's like, it'd be one thing to just not like him and move on, but you talk about him all the time."

"Mitch is so infuriating," Lawson says, so clearly intending to mock Dylan, "I can't stand him, Davo. Why is he always around?"

"I don't sound like that."

"Davo, can you please make Mitch stop talking? I have a headache." Connor's doing the same stupid voice as Lawson to mock Dylan.

"You guys are the worst," Dylan says. He takes a bite of his bagel before continuing. "But seriously, I was just innocently getting books out of my locker and he walked into me! Who _does_ that?"

"You just did the thing we're making fun of you for doing," Lawson says.

"Oh, please, like he doesn't do the exact same thing and talk about me when I'm not around."

"He... doesn't, really," Connor says. 

"Okay, so we've established that Mitch Marner is a better person than I am," Dylan says. "Can we change the subject? "

Connor and Lawson both shrug, going back to their bagels.

Dylan will take that as a win for now.

 

 

The rest of the school day is blessedly Mitch-free, but they do have practice, and Dylan has to see him then.

He's stretching with Connor, when Mitch comes up next to them.

"Hey, Marns," Connor says, and he shoots Dylan this _look_ , like what the fuck.

"Hi, Davo."

"There's another person here," Dylan says.

"Hi, Stromer. How are you?" Mitch smiles sweetly, but it's obvious it's not genuine. It's the same kind of ' _I can't believe I have to put up with this shit'_ smile that Dylan uses sometimes.

"Fantastic," Dylan says, dry.

"Do either of you ever stop?" Connor asks.

Dylan feels bad for Connor, sometimes. It's not his fault that his two best friends don't like each other. He's always just in their middle of their bullshit.

Connor McDavid is an extremely patient man.

"I mean, I _could_ —"

"But what's the fun in that?" Mitch cuts Dylan off and finishes his sentence. They both look at each other and laugh.

"That was weird," Dylan says.

"Little bit, yeah." There's a hint of a smile on Mitch's face.

"Marner!" Coach calls from across the gym, and Mitch jogs away, leaving Connor and Dylan alone again.

"A moment of civility, how rare," Connor smirks. Dylan shoves him lightly.

"You have to admit, that was weird."

"Imagine how great life would be if you and Mitch were _always_ that nice to each other. A world where Mitch Marner and Dylan Strome can peacefully coexist and—"

"Okay, that's enough dreaming for today, Davo."

Dylan picks up the volleyball on the floor next to him. Mitch finishes talking to Coach and starts to warm up with Travis and Lawson, back turned in Dylan's direction.

"Dylan, do _not_ ," Connor says.

Dylan throws the ball in Mitch's direction.

"Too late," he shrugs.

It only misses Mitch by a little bit, because Travis is a good friend and yells, "Behind!" to get Mitch to move out of the way. When Mitch turns around, Dylan is waving at him, smirking.

"You're infuriating, Strome!" Mitch yells across the gym.

Coach doesn't even look up.

 

 

Connor drives Dylan home after practice. There are a few cars parked outside of his house, like, big SUVs that Dylan has never seen before.

He doesn't really think much about it at all; he has neighbors and there's not a ton of street parking. It could have to do with the McLeods. Whatever, he's not going to think too much into this.

He goes straight up to his room and gets his laptop out to attempt starting homework. There's a knock at his door.

"Dylan, honey, can I talk to you downstairs?" his mom says from the other side of the door.

"Guess so," he mumbles. He rolls off the bed and opens his door. "Everything okay?"

She nods. "You're not in trouble."

She leads him into the dining room, where his dad and two people he's never seen in his life — an older woman who's dressed too elegantly to be sitting in the Strome's dining room, and a pretty intimidating man dressed in all black — are sitting around the big table.

"What's going on?" Dylan asks.

"I don't even know where to start," Dylan's dad says. "Dyl, this is your grandmother." He motions to the woman across the table from him, and what the _fuck_.

"Hello, Dylan," she says. "It's nice to finally meet you.” _Finally_? How long has she known about him?

She extends her hand for a handshake, and like, Dylan would be a dick if he didn't shake her hand, so. He does.

"Nice to meet you too?" He says, and it comes out like a question because he is so fucking confused, and no one is doing _anything_ to make this clearer.

"I don't really know how to ease into this, because Ryan didn't really take it well at all," his mom says. Ryan doesn’t even live at home anymore; what the _hell_ is going on. "You're next in line to the throne of Genovia."

"What the fuck," Dylan says, because there is literally nothing else going through his head. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

"Dylan William, _language_."

"Can someone please tell me what this means?!"

"I'm the queen—"

"I'm sorry for cutting you off, your majesty, but you're a _queen_ and also my grandma, and you're sitting at my dining room table?" Dylan asks.

“You don’t have to call me ‘your majesty,’ I’m just your grandmother.” Grandma Queen’s expression softens, a little.

“No, you—you’re definitely a queen and I still have no idea what’s going on.”

“I’m the Queen of Genovia. Your father, my only child, didn’t accept his title as the heir because he wanted to live a normal life, as did Ryan. You turned 18 yesterday, so you’re being given the same choice he did. You can either accept your title as Prince of Genovia and heir to the throne, or just continue your life as Dylan,” Grandma Queen explains.

This is fucking _wild._

Dylan is 18 years and one day old, with horribly bleached hair, four-day-old stubble that he hasn’t bothered to shave, and he’s wearing a t-shirt that may or may not be clean. He’s a student and a mediocre volleyball player. He’s not a prince.

“What, uh, I’m sorry—This is a lot to take in. I, um, yeah, I’m gonna—” Dylan stands up abruptly and makes a beeline for the stairs before anyone can stop him. He gets to his room, closes and locks the door before either of his parents get to it.

His hands are shaking a little bit, he realizes when he picks up his phone to call Ryan.

He sits down on his bed and just breathes for a few seconds before he dials.

Ryan is laughing on the other end when he picks up; Dylan hears a hushed, “Be quiet!” on his end.

“Hey, Dyl,” Ryan says, still a little breathy from whatever he was laughing at.

“We’re fucking _royal_?!”

“Did, um, is Grandma in town?”

“The Queen of Genovia is in town, yeah,” Dylan says. He swears he didn’t mean for it to sound as bitter as it came out.

"I guess they told you," Ryan says.

“I’m… I could be a prince.”

“I know,” Ryan sighs. “I could’ve been too.”

“Mom and Dad are going to come up here any second because I just fucking bolted, but I have no idea what to do, Ry.”

“You ran away from the queen?” Ryan laughs.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Dylan lies down on his back and sighs. "Why can't Oscar be the prince? I think he'd be a really good prince. They should really consider that."

"Oscar is a dog, Dylan."

"I know," Dylan says, "This entire situation is so ridiculous."

“I’m so glad you know what it’s like to have all that shit dumped on you now,” Ryan says.

“Gee, what a supportive older brother,” Dylan says, dry. Ryan is quiet for a second, and Dylan adds on before Ryan can speak again. “Why’d you say no?”

“It wasn’t easy, Dyl, it was like—it was probably the toughest decision I’ve ever made. I wanted to go to college and work at a museum and eventually have a normal life with a family and kids and stuff, and I knew that eventually becoming a fucking _king_ would basically mean I wouldn’t get the life I wanted. I like having control, I dunno. So I said ‘thanks, but no thanks’ and no one was really upset about it.”

“You told the _queen_ that you didn’t want to officially accept being the heir and she was cool with it? Mom and Dad too?” Dylan asks.

“Everyone respected my decision. They’ll respect yours too, whatever it is. And I'm obviously not judging you. I turned it down.” Ryan says.

Dylan didn’t really expect differently, but knowing that it happened to Ryan, and everyone supported what he decided to do really helps.

“I don’t know how much time I have to think this over,” Dylan says. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I think that no matter what, you’re going to make the right decision, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time. You’ll know it eventually. It felt wrong, when I turned it down, but I know that I made the right choice now.”

“If I—what if I turn it down? What happens? Will Matt even get a choice?" Dylan asks.

"That's a Grandma question," Ryan says. "They have plans in place for whatever your answer is."

There's a knock at Dylan's door. "Dyl, it's just me," his mom says.

"Ry, mom is at my door. I'll talk to you later, I guess," Dylan says into the phone. "Thank you."

"Good luck, bro," Ryan says.

Dylan laughs, "I'm going to need all the luck I can get."

 

 

So, Dylan's a prince. Or he will be by the time he graduates high school.

After talking to his mom, he steels himself, goes back downstairs, and tells his grandmother that he'll accept it.

Dylan makes impulsive decisions all the time. This is just another one of those, but one with effects that'll snowball until he _rules a country_.

God, one day, Dylan's going to rule a country.

He's actually doing this thing.

 

 

The next two days are like, completely normal, but also the furthest thing from it. The prince thing is still just knowledge in his family, but he’s starting fucking _prince lessons_ and the queen—Grandma, he has to remind himself— wants him to dye his hair back and shave every day to look the part.

School is fine, because it’s just school and he’s just Dylan. He goes to the library during his free period like he does every other day, walks all the way to the back where everyone’s already at their usual table. Mikey is talking when he walks up. Dylan can see the way his facial expression changes as Mikey looks up and sees Dylan standing there.

“—shit, I wasn’t supposed to say _any_ of that.”

Everyone turns toward Dylan and there are too many eyes on him. He narrows his eyes.

“Did you like, tell them about how I hooked up with Barzal over winter break, or something?”

“You hooked up with Mat?” Connor asks.

“No, I—something else. Matty told Ryan, and Ryan told me…” Mikey says, directed toward Dylan.

Dylan is going to _kill_ Matty.

“Dude, you’re a fucking prince?” Mitch asks, rather loudly considering they’re in a library. Dylan shushes him, and he continues, quieter. “No offense, but you’re like, the furthest thing from a prince _ever_ . You come to school every day looking like you just rolled out of bed, and you’re so _boring_ , and—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Dylan says. He pulls a chair over and sits down at the table. “Yes, I’m a prince. Yes, one day I’ll be a king. No, you can’t tell anyone.”

“They’re going to let you rule a country, oh my god. This is literally the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,” Mitch says, laughing.

It’s, like, the opposite of funny, how much Dylan is freaking out about it.

“Don’t be mean,” Connor mutters to Mitch.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Mikey says eventually, and Dylan knows it’s genuine. He can’t be mad at Mikey, because he did what Dylan was already planning to do at some point. He was going to tell his friends eventually, because living with this, and going through it all alone wasn’t going to be easy.

So they know. Connor, Mitch, Mikey, Nate, and Auston, who is more Mitch’s friend than any of theirs, all know. It has to stay that way.

 

 

(Dylan gets his hair dyed back that night.

He’s greeted the next morning with an especially cheery Mitch Marner coming up to his locker before first period even starts.

“You look stupid,” Mitch says.

“Gee, thanks,” Dylan deadpans, slams his locker shut, and walks to class before Mitch can say anything else about it.)

 

 

Prince lessons are mostly an exercise in Dylan finding out that he’s more unqualified for this than he ever imagined before.

He can’t even sit in a chair right. He has to re-learn how to wave at people.

Grandma tells him he should stop cursing so often.

Every time a lesson is over, it feels like more of Dylan Before is being replaced by this new, prim and proper Prince Dylan.

 

 

Dylan wakes up to his phone ringing at 10 a.m. It’s a Saturday, so it’s a completely reasonable time for someone to be calling him, but Dylan was planning on sleeping until noon at the least, so this is pretty inconvenient. He accepts the call before he even looks at the Caller ID.

“’lo?” Dylan mumbles.

“Have you looked at your phone at all this morning? Mom’s called me like, three times already.” the person on the other line is saying. It’s Ryan.

“You woke me up. I haven’t seen anything yet today. My eyes are still closed.”

“Dyl, it leaked.” Ryan says.

“What?” Dylan asks.

“Everyone knows that you’re a prince. It leaked out of Genovia overnight.” Ryan says.

Dylan doesn’t respond immediately, just takes a deep breath and lies there before it all hits him. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“This is bad, Ry, this is so bad.” Dylan says. “I’m going to get followed everywhere!”

The thing is, this was always supposed to happen, but later on, through a palace press release once Dylan graduated. It’s been about a month since Dylan found out; he was supposed to have more time.  

“I know, Dyl. It’s a lot to take in right now, especially because you just woke up to this,” Ryan says. “I just wanted to let you know before you saw anything else.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna—I should go. See what the fuck is going on.”

Dylan hangs up and starts scrolling through texts (at least one from all his friends that know saying _IT WASN’T ME I SWEAR_ ), other notifications, and emails from the account set up for him by someone in the palace about the next steps and how to contain this.

They’re telling him he shouldn’t leave the house until he has to go to school on Monday. They’re working out a new security detail. He’s going to have guards at school, and following him home.

There’s no such thing as privacy anymore; he had to expect that from the moment he agreed to accepting his title, but for it to become a reality so suddenly fucking sucks.

 

                                                     

The first day at school after everyone finds out that Dylan is a prince is a total disaster. There are reporters and people keep giving him looks, and treating him like he’s fucking fragile. It sucks.

After practice that day, Mitch asks if he wants to hang out. Today’s already been so fucking weird, Dylan might as well.

It’s not really horrible; they’re able to help each other with government homework and they play video games. They make KD for dinner and don’t burn Mitch’s kitchen down.

Things like that keep happening. Dylan spends a lot of time with Mitch in the few weeks after the world finds out that Dylan is a prince. Everyone else is different around Dylan, more careful, but Mitch hasn’t changed at all. Dylan is realizing that Mitch isn’t actually that bad, and that he could have learned that years ago if he’d just gotten the fuck over himself.

Mitch is funny in a kind of lame way, and a surprisingly good person to talk to. They’ve been teammates and not-friends for almost four years now, but Dylan’s really just getting to know him now.

He’s also, like, cute, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

 

The queen tells Dylan he has to stop playing volleyball.

Not to be dramatic, but it's probably the worst thing to ever happen to him.

He's not even that great; he'll never make the all-county or all-state team like Connor, but playing volleyball was—it was one of the only things he had left from before Prince Dylan happened, and now he doesn't have that.

Dylan texts the team group chat to tell everyone and he's being very nonchalant about it and he cracked a joke because that's how he deals with things, but he's actually pretty upset about this.

The last thing he wants to be doing right now is dealing with Mitch Marner, who is actually his friend now, but apparently, he can't always get what he wants.

"Hey," Mitch says, coming up next to Dylan's locker at the end of the day. “Kinda sucks that you won’t be playing anymore.”

“I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Dude, it’s not like I’m playing right now either,” Mitch says, and there’s something in his tone that’s angry or bitter, but it’s something that’s very Not Mitch. He pushes the sleeve of his sweatshirt up, and—that’s a brace on his wrist.

“What happened?” Dylan asks quietly.

“I sprained it yesterday. It’s—I’m out for a little bit.” Mitch says.

“Shit, dude,” Dylan says. “How long?”

“Two or three weeks. They’re saying it’s a minimum, so hopefully it’s just that,” Mitch takes in a shaky breath, and _oh_ , he’s really upset, and he came to Dylan about it, which—firstly, why would anyone come to Dylan about anything when they’re upset, but also, Dylan knows how Mitch must be feeling right now. It’s not the same, but it’s really not that different. “Anyway, are you doing anything this afternoon?”

“Just an English paper.” Dylan says.

“Can you drive to us the train station?” Mitch asks. “I know you don’t have a car, so we can walk to my house and you can drive mine.”

“Mitch…” Dylan says, suspicious.

“Come _on_ , it’ll be fun.” Mitch says, and Dylan knows that whatever Mitch has planned is a bad idea, but they’re both out of practice and—

“Okay,” Dylan says, against his better judgement. “I’m in.”

When they get to the station, Mitch buys two tickets that’ll leave them at Union Station downtown, and this is a _confirmed_ bad idea, but Dylan isn’t going to stop Mitch this late.

It’s been a long time since Dylan made an impulsive decision like this, and this one couldn’t have come at a better time.

He’s just Dylan right now, 18 years old, going downtown with his friend.

“You’re so tense, dude,” Mitch says, once they’re on a train.  

“I’m not supposed to be doing this,” Dylan says. “Like, grandma usually has a security detail on me or something.”

“That’s exactly _why_ I planned this,” Mitch says.

“You—you planned on asking my consent to essentially kidnap me for an afternoon.”

“I don’t know if you realize it because you don’t actually have to hang out with yourself, but you’re always really stressed out. I thought this would be fun,” Mitch says, smiling at Dylan. “You can kind of take your mind off stuff and we can hang out somewhere that isn’t either of our basements.”

“I still look too much like myself and I’ve been in the news recently,” Dylan says, and then thinks for a moment before taking the baseball cap off of Mitch’s head and putting it on his own. He grins at Mitch. “There, now I’m incognito.”

“Who are you? I don’t even recognize you,” Mitch jokes.

The train stops downtown, and as soon as they emerge from the station, Mitch starts walking with Dylan behind him, following him.

It’s just. It’s nothing special. An afternoon downtown. They go into a few shops and get dinner.

They’re in a mall when someone’s pretty obviously staring at Dylan, to the point where it’s a little uncomfortable. Mitch notices, and takes Dylan’s hand and takes off sprinting. They go down a corridor that’s more empty than other parts of the mall, and into a store. They stop eventually between two racks of clothing, both laughing so hard that it takes time to catch their breaths.

“That was fun,” Mitch says.

“Oh my God,” Dylan says, still breathless. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Mitch smiles, easy.

“My hero,” Dylan jokes.

“Dude, I’m like, the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress.” Mitch says.

Dylan rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that’s on his face as he does.

Mitch takes him to a small ice cream shop before they have to head back home. They’re sitting across from each other at a high top table, both eating ice cream cones, when Dylan realizes he wants to kiss Mitch.

It’s the kind of realization that should be slightly-earth shattering, and it _is_ , briefly, before Dylan realizes that this has been a long time coming.

Their paths were meant to cross in this way and nothing more should happen, Dylan has to tell himself to keep him from doing something extremely stupid, because he _wants_ to. He looks at Mitch and he wants so much.

 

                                                       

Dylan goes to Genovia to do some fancy official royal stuff with his parents, grandma, and Matty. He has meetings and fittings for suits. He puts on his actual, official Prince Dylan of Genovia crown for the first time and, naturally, sends a Snapchat to the guys when he’s wearing it.

It’s really fucking cool.

The worst part is sitting for his royal portrait. For some reason, they still do it like it’s the Dark Ages, so Dylan is in an uncomfortable suit, sitting up impossibly straight for _hours_ while some very talented Genovian man paints him. He asks four separate times if they can just take a picture for reference and call it a day. Paint takes time to dry and he can’t _move_ , and it’s pretty much the worst experience of his life.

He knows Matty is off to the side sending Snapchats to all of Dylan’s friends, but Dylan can’t even turn to yell at him for it.

He _finally_ finishes sitting there, and when he’s done, there’s a few unread texts from Mitch on his phone.

_this is weird but i actually kinda miss u_

_wait no i never said that_

_that text is blank ok this never happened_

Dylan laughs, typing out a reply.

_i think i might miss you too_

_but this never happened right ;)_

Of all the things Dylan didn’t expect to happen during his senior year, actually missing Mitch Marner is probably the biggest surprise.

He’s a little upset to be missing Mitch’s birthday, but he sends him a text, and a dumb Snapchat video of him singing Happy Birthday, and ignores the part of his brain screaming at him that a kiss would be a really great late birthday present.

 

 

After a week of being whisked around Europe, the last place Dylan wants to be is at prom barely six hours after is flight lands.

It’s his senior prom, and all of his friends are there, but Dylan just hates this, and—this is his entire future, he realizes. Galas and balls and dances in perfectly-tailored suits.

At least he’s not expected to be Prince Dylan tonight. Still, the guys give him shit for showing up in a suit that was clearly made for a prince and not a high schooler going to his prom alone. It’s still more fun than he thought it would be. Dylan doesn’t get to let loose like this anymore. Tonight, he’s just a kid having fun with his friends.

Connor makes Dylan slow dance with him because they’re both dateless — “It’s good practice for all the fancy nobility you’ll have to dance with,” he says, but Connor’s a giant nerd, and Dylan’s best friend in the world so he doesn’t call his bullshit.

Dylan’s pretty nervous when they say that they’re announcing prom king and queen. He hasn’t done anything to deserve it, but he’s _actual_ royalty and high schoolers are weird.

They announce the prom queen first; one of the cheerleaders, April, who’s always been pretty nice to Dylan. He can see how she won, and she deserves it.

“We actually have a tie for prom king,” their principal says into the microphone, once April has put on her tiara and taken a few pictures. Connor gives Dylan a _look_ and Dylan rolls his eyes. “Congratulations to this year’s co-prom kings: Mitchell Marner and Dylan Strome!”

And—oh _no_ , this is Dylan’s worst nightmare.

Mitch _deserves_ this. He’s funny and smart and super involved and everyone _loves_ him. Dylan is just a fucking prince who basically went to class and went home, outside of volleyball. It’s honestly kind of ridiculous, but Mitch is grabbing him and dragging him onto the dance floor by his hand.

They get these plastic crowns and they take uncomfortable pictures, together, together with April, and separately with April. Each of them have to dance with April, and it’s stiff and awkward, but she feels as awkward as Dylan does, so they laugh about it. She doesn’t say anything about the actual, real life royalty thing either, which is nice.

So maybe being co-prom king with Mitch isn’t the worst thing ever.

Mitch taps him on the shoulder as everything is winding down. “Outside?” he asks, and Dylan nods. He puts the plastic crown down on the table before following Mitch outside, to the small beach area right outside the doors of the venue.

“Hey, prom king,” Dylan smiles.

“Co-prom king.” Mitch corrects, and Dylan shakes his head.

“You actually earned this, I’m just a fucking prince.”

“One day you’ll be a real king, and I’ll still just have this plastic crown,” Mitch laughs. “But I’m sure that’s, like, the last thing you want to be thinking about right now.”

“Thank you,” Dylan says, and he means it so genuinely. There’s so much he could say to Mitch right now. _Thank you, thank you, thank you_ . _Thank you for being someone who kept making fun of me after you found out, thank you for the time you decided we were going downtown and didn’t even give me a chance to say no, thank you for proving me wrong_.

There are so many things Dylan can say, but he doesn’t know how to say any of it. So he leans in, and he kisses Mitch instead.

He puts one hand on Mitch’s waist, the other on the side of his face, and they’re _kissing_ . It isn’t his first kiss, and it isn’t even his _best_ kiss, but Mitch Marner is kissing him; six months ago, Dylan would have laughed in your face if you told him he’d be kissing Mitch Marner, Prom King, during prom. _God_ , he’s kissing Mitch, and Mitch is kissing him back, and Dylan can’t imagine this being any other way right now.

“Dyl,” Mitch says quietly, once they’ve pulled apart. They’re still standing close enough that another kiss wouldn’t be a far stretch. “Dyl, I—”

“Sorry, I’m—sorry.”

“Dylan, we can’t. This is—you’re a prince!” Mitch says, stepping back to put distance between him and Dylan.

And Dylan—

He—

That _hurts_.

For once, he was bold. He acted selfishly and did something he thought would be _good_ , because the way Mitch looks at him sometimes—Dylan wasn’t making that up. He _saw_ that.

Dylan shakes his head, turns and all but runs back into the prom venue.

He ignores Mitch calling his name, but he hears it.

He sits back down at the table, and thankfully, Connor isn’t there. He’s not in the mood to talk. He’d go home, but Connor is his ride. Mitch comes back inside and avoids their table. He won’t look in Dylan’s direction. He must need time.

Dylan—he needs time, too.

 

 

He takes time.

He thinks about it.

He’s upset, he decides, when he wakes up, hungover from drinking at Connor’s after prom had ended.

He’s upset, because Mitch didn’t change when everyone found out about Dylan’s royalty. He was still the same, but they became friends, despite everything in their past, and now—

Mitch pulled away, and he said it’s because Dylan is a prince. It was never an issue before, but suddenly it is.

It’s not like what he feels for Mitch is going to disappear overnight, either, no matter how angry, or upset, or hurt Dylan is. Mitch is still Mitch, and they’re still going to see each other whether Dylan is okay with that or not.

He’s going to have to be okay with it, and pretend like nothing happened, but he can’t forget and he won’t forget and—

Grandma notices something is off with him during Prince Lessons the Monday after prom weekend, and before Dylan even realizes it, he’s telling her — a real fucking queen — everything about Mitch. Even things like going downtown with him, which she was never supposed to find out about. He tells her about being co-prom kings, and the kiss, and she squeezes his hand, so he must be getting more worked up about this than he thought.

When he’s done and says everything he needed to, Grandma pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you,” Dylan mumbles. “I really needed this.”

“Why don’t we just call it a day, okay? No prince lessons today.” Grandma says.

“Are you sure?” Dylan asks.

She nods. “Go relax. That’s an order from your grandmother, not the Queen of Genovia.”

“Okay,” Dylan nods. “Thank you again for this.”

“Anytime, Dylan. I mean that.” Grandma smiles.

It helped to vent about everything, but he still needs time.

 

 

Graduation is a week after prom. Dylan hasn’t spoken to Mitch at all. They’ve had to co-exist for an entire week, and they’ve done it without much eye contact and not a single word. It’s like moving backward; one huge step forward, and two back in their relationship.

At least when they just existed in the same circles, they’d talk to each other occasionally.

So, Dylan graduates. He crosses the stage, and gets a diploma, and he really, actually graduates high school.

It should be the most satisfying and gratifying thing he’s ever done, but something’s missing.

He misses Mitch, misses him a lot, and he’s _right there_ , just across the football field from him, but he’s talking to Auston when April comes up to Dylan and starts talking to him. By the time they’re finished talking, Dylan can’t find Mitch anymore.

He’d thought about doing something big here, like kissing Mitch again, but Dylan is still a prince—and that’s kind of what started this mess in the first place.

 

 

Dylan spends the entire plane ride to Genovia wondering if he’s making the right decision.

He’s sitting next to Connor, who’s sleeping. He’s idly scrolling through his phone trying to ignore the doubt that’s creeping up that maybe he’s just wasted months of his life preparing to take on something he can’t do.

It’s been two weeks since graduation, and he’s flying to Genovia to be crowned. To officially become the heir to the throne.

There’s going to be a ball, and he was allowed to invite anyone, so naturally Connor is on this private jet next to him right now. His family is there, too, obviously; and Ryan brought his boyfriend, John, who Dylan genuinely believed was made up until three hours ago when they met for the first time. Dylan can’t believe that John is actually as boring as Ryan had described him to be.

In a different world, or a perfect one, Mitch would be here too. But it’s not perfect, and it’s the world Dylan is living in, so he just has to quietly be okay with the fact that Mitch isn’t here.

He’s just not as sure about any of it as he was three months ago, or even yesterday. It’s ridiculous that he’s having second thoughts, like, two days before it becomes official. It’s even more ridiculous that these second thoughts are all because he wants to be Mitch Marner’s boyfriend, without any royal titles or thrones to inherit.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Connor mumbles, his eyes still closed.

“Go back to sleep, Davo.”

 

The morning of the ball, Dylan wakes up to an orange being thrown at him.

He rolls over and groans loudly into this pillow.

“Don’t make me throw another orange at you,” Matty says.

“Why are you throwing oranges at me to begin with?” Dylan sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Because it’s noon and Grandma has had it with you sleeping in. Also, I don’t know how much longer I can sit with Connor and not just go completely crazy. You and Ryan have really boring friends,” Matty explains.

“Are you aware that oranges aren’t exactly soft?” Dylan asks, because he can’t get past the fact that out of everything in the palace, Matty threw an _orange_ at him to wake him up.

“Also, your fancy ball is tonight and you have to get ready,” Matty says, completely ignoring what Dylan had just asked.

Dylan lies back down and faces away from Matty.

He gets up, eventually, after Matty comes back threatening to throw a coconut.  If anyone else had done that, Dylan wouldn’t believe it, but there’s nothing stopping Matty from doing it.

 

 

Getting ready for the ball is like extreme makeover 2.0, with less hair dye and more hair gel. He’s professionally shaven, and his hair is slicked back; he couldn’t look less like himself, but this is his life now.

He meets Grandma in the throne room just minutes before he’s supposed to be making his entrance. His parents, Matty, Ryan and John, and Connor are all already in the ballroom.

In like, 10 minutes, Dylan has to make a speech, and someone is going to put a crown on his head, and he’s going to dance with someone, and then it’s _real_.

“Are you ready?” Grandma asks.

Dylan hesitates before nodding.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she continues. “I still get nervous.”

“Thank you for everything, Grandma,” Dylan says.

“I’m so proud of you, Dylan.” She smiles before pulling Dylan into a hug.

When they pull apart, Dylan takes a deep breath and steels himself, much like he did the day after his 18th birthday, when he had to tell his grandmother that yes, he’ll be the heir.

“I’m ready,” Dylan says, and he feels—he doesn’t feel different; just prepared. There are people he loves who are confident in his ability to be a halfway effective royal. _He’s_ confident in his ability. It’s been a long road, but one that, ultimately, he’s grateful he took.

“After you,” Grandma says, and Dylan leads the way, until they’re standing in front of the closed double doors of the ballroom.

The doors open.

Everything after that is kind of a blur.

He makes a speech, in which he openly admits to having second thoughts not even two days ago, and that deep down he’s still worried that he could mess up. He’s nervous and emotional, and he sees his mom mouth “slow down” to him twice.

Finally, he takes a breath.

"This morning when I woke up, I was just Dylan Strome. But now I choose to be, forevermore, Dylan William Strome, Prince of Genovia.” Dylan finishes his speech, and smiles to the crowd of people. Connor is toward the back giving him a thumbs up. His mom is crying. Grandma looks thrilled. And this is—this is _right_.

Grandma puts his crown on his head. It’s the second time he’s ever worn it, the first in front of people.

“Congratulations, Dylan,” Grandma whispers.

She leads him down, into the middle of the ballroom, where he’s supposed to dance with someone now. It’s an old Genovian custom, and Dylan had no say in who his dance would be with, he was just told who it would be; it turns out to be the son of someone in parliament, who’s about Dylan’s age. His name is Brady, and he’s pretty cute.

The dancing itself is awkward, and it feels like prom all over again. He really hates dancing. It’s just the two of them for about 45 long seconds, before other people start dancing too.

“Congratulations,” Brady says, and lets go of Dylan’s hand. “I’m gonna—”

He’s motioning behind him, to a pretty generic but wholesome looking guy. He’s not Dylan’s type, but he could see how someone else, like Brady, probably, would find him cute. Whoever he is, he’s looking on expectantly as Brady bows and goes to the other guy.

Dylan knows he’s expected to dance with, like, _everyone_ , and this is really the worst part of being a prince.

“Prince Dylan,” Connor says, appearing in front of him from somewhere in the crowd of people, after Dylan has already danced with six other people. He bows, before continuing. “Dance?”

Dylan nods, smiling. Dancing with Connor is actually fun, because neither of them are tense, or too worried about their posture being perfect. It’s like that time at prom, and Connor is still a giant nerd and Dylan’s best friend.

“Thanks for being here,” Dylan says.

“Thanks for asking me,” Connor says, smiling.

“I wanted you here, y’know?”

Connor doesn’t get a chance to reply, but he’s still smiling when someone taps Dylan on the shoulder. He turns around to see who he’ll most likely be dancing with next, and it’s—

Mitch.

Mitch Marner, wearing his freaking prom tux, in Genovia.

“You’re in Genovia,” Dylan says, rather stupidly, but it’s the only thing he can manage right now.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone,” Connor says, and then he’s gone, leaving Dylan alone with Mitch for the first time since prom night. For the first time since Dylan kissed him.

“I’m in Genovia,” Mitch says.

“We should talk,” Dylan says.

“Don’t you want to dance first?” Mitch asks, and Dylan nods.

“Bow,” Dylan mouths, and Mitch does.

They’re dancing, right in the middle of the ballroom, and Mitch is _here_.

It’s quick, and they don’t say anything at all, but it’s everything Dylan wishes would’ve happened at prom.

“We really should talk,” he says eventually, letting go of Mitch’s hand.

“And leave your own ball?” Mitch asks.

“Please, Mitch. You’re  _here_. We need to talk about this.”

Eventually, Mitch nods. Dylan cuts through the crowd and out of the ballroom, with Mitch close behind him. He takes Mitch down an empty hallway and up the stairs until they’re in the suite that’s become Dylan’s over the past few days. No one will interrupt them here.

“I have so many questions,” Dylan says. “How are you here? _Why_ are you here? We kissed, and then we stopped talking, and now you’re at a fucking ball in fucking Genovia where I just became the prince.”

“I _like_ you, Dyl,” Mitch says, after a silence that drags on so long Dylan is worried it might last forever.

“We kissed at prom, and you—”

“I flew all the way to your country to attend your fucking introduction ball because I wanted to talk to you, okay? If I actually had an issue with you bring a prince, we could have done this literally anywhere else,” Mitch says.

“You could’ve just called me.”

“Dude, international phone calls are expensive,” Mitch says, as if he didn’t just fly to a different country.

“You bought a plane ticket,” Dylan says. “The phone call would’ve been cheaper.”

“Actually, the Genovian government bought the plane ticket, but that’s not the point,” Mitch says, and Dylan is intrigued, because what the  _f_ _uck_ , how did Mitch manage to charm the government of Genovia into flying him out here to _talk_? He’s not all that surprised, though; Mitch is charming. “This is supposed to be a romantic gesture, and I have a point to prove, so shut up and stop being an asshole. Let me talk.”

Dylan waves his hand a bit, signaling for Mitch to go on.

“I… actually don’t have anything else to say,” Mitch says, and then he’s pulling Dylan in by the lapels of his jacket and kissing him.

It takes Dylan by surprise, but his brain catches up to his body quick enough and he puts his hands on Mitch’s hips and kisses back. It’s nothing like the first time they kissed, this feels more sure. Like they both know this is a good idea.

“Wait,” Dylan says, once they’ve pulled apart. “How did you convince the government to fly you here so you could kiss me?”

Mitch blushes. “More kissing, less talking?”

Dylan shakes his head, smiling.

“I told Connor what happened, and he told Ryan, and Ryan is, like, the realest bro, dude. He worked something out, I don’t know _how_. He also taught me and Connor how to slow dance.”

“And you’re here because you—”

“Because I like you,” Mitch says, “And because I’ve wanted to kiss you again since prom, and because I’ve thought about _this_ so much that I’ve literally researched things about being in relationships with members of royal families.”

Mitch is… really serious about this.

“We can take it slow,” Mitch continues. “If that’s what you want. Because you were just introduced as the crown prince, like, an hour ago, so I’d understand if a relationship with me is like, the last thing on your mind right now, but if you want this we can—”

“You’re rambling,” Dylan says, and pulls Mitch back in, as if kissing will confirm everything.

“Use your words, Dylan,” Mitch teases when they pull apart.

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Boyfriend is a cooler title than prince,” he says, because he’s never been straightforward about anything in this relationship, and why would he start now?

“A ‘yes’ would have sufficed,” Mitch says, but he’s laughing and he leans up to kiss Dylan again.

Eventually, someone will come looking for him, and maybe they’ll find both of them here; he’ll have to go back down to the ball, but he’ll go back holding Mitch’s hand, which, being able to do that now is pretty much the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Dylan is 18 years and a few months old. He has better hair now, and he shaves more often. He’s a high school graduate, and he’s still going to college like he was always supposed to. He’s Dylan Strome, Crown Prince of Genovia, and one day, he’ll be the king. He’s Mitch Marner’s boyfriend, and they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> untagged characters: matt strome, michael mcleod, ryan mcleod, john tavares, mat barzal, travis konecny, lawson crouse, auston matthews, nathan bastian, brady skjei, and jimmy vesey. a little bit of ryan strome/john tavares, and vague brady skjei/jimmy vesey if you squint ;)
> 
> extras:   
> \- i kind of went crazy coming up with a backstory for ryan due to him turning down the crown. i have to give credit where credit is due, because ria helped in the creation of this but basically: ryan went to college, and he met john really late in the lib one night (they scared each other by pulling books out of the stacks at the same time. ryan put his number on a post it on john's desk and the rest is history). they've been together for a while, but john's never met the stromes. ryan's talked about john to dylan and matty, but dylan becomes convinced that ryan is making john up and gets matty hooked on this dumb conspiracy theory too. he becomes known as "john from college" and dylan finally meets him the day the entire family flies to genovia. after that, dylan kind of feels bad and starts making a genuine effort to get to know john; it makes ryan very happy.   
> \- their prom venue is based on mine which actually did have a beach!!  
> \- the queen is absolutely julie andrews. in my doc, she was referred to as julie in the comments.   
> \- mitch never gets back the hat that dylan took from him on the train  
>  \- one day he puts it on mitch's head and says "since i've worn it, it's basically a crown now. you're welcome"  
> -this doc/the working title was and still is "dylan strome, royal disaster)  
> \- there's a playlist for this work in progress here: https://open.spotify.com/user/1249781842/playlist/3RNQtL9Kxn6YbIzD3LiLhs
> 
> \- as always, come hang out on twitter: @matbarzaI (the l is a capital i!)


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